


Every Part

by Wallwalker



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: In Public, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Loyalty Kink, M/M, Magically reaching inside of someone in order to fondle their innards, PWP, Pre-Star Wars: A New Hope, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:35:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23670010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wallwalker/pseuds/Wallwalker
Summary: The Emperor has many ways to remind Darth Vader that he belongs to him, and not all of them have to be painful.
Relationships: Sheev Palpatine/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	Every Part

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aurae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurae/gifts).



One thing that the Emperor cannot forget is that the way of the Sith so often includes betrayal. He himself had betrayed his Master, after all. It was their way for the apprentice to kill the master, once they felt they could lay claim to the power that was theirs by right. 

He does not wish for Darth Vader to betray him. Nor does he wish to kill him, if it is not absolutely necessary. He supposes he has grown somewhat fond of him, despite everything. He has twisted an idealistic boy into his servant, a man powerful in the Dark Side, and one cannot help but be proud of the things that one creates. 

He is sure that Vader is unfailingly and thoughtlessly loyal to him. After all, he has everything and Vader has nothing left. And Vader himself has made sure of that, he has killed every other who might have offered him companionship. He feels he does not deserve anything but to be this - the being who has committed a thousand atrocities in the Emperor's name. 

He is old beyond his years now. So little touches his burned and ravaged skin, clad in its durasteel armor. His body is in ruins and only his will, and his strength in the Dark Side, keep him from collapsing under its weight. He is starved for touch, but touching his skin would only cause him more pain; the nerves there are ruined, if not by the fire than by his rapid degeneration. 

He is loyal to the Emperor, in the way that only a man who has destroyed everything else he might ever have loved can be, and such loyalty was rare. It needed to be rewarded. 

It has become an old ritual, one that no one else knows about. They could be in front of a thousand solders and no one would be able to tell what the Emperor was doing to his servant. He has done this while Vader stood beside him in front of his own forces, with only the slightest warning, a brief touch of his mind - _Do not move, make no sound, or this will not happen again until you prove yourself worthy of it_. His servant did not disappoint him. 

He always started slowly, in ways that were at least somewhat familiar. A gentle pressure inside of his mouth, like a tongue pressing against his own, moving to caress his teeth and the inside of his cheek. Even at the slightest touch he can feel his excitement, mingled with gratitude - and an overwhelming hunger for this, for whatever his Master would choose to do to him, a starving man willing to take anything for nourishment even if it would ultimately kill him. It is endearing, in a way. Like a man with his faithful pet, who always greets him when he returns, who will fight anyone who seeks to harm him even if it costs him his life. 

He continues in the familiar ways, at first - a way of preparing him for what would come next. Gentle but unyielding, power snaking into his orifices, a careful push inside of what is left of his member (the skin is damaged, badly damaged, but there is still pleasure to be found within.) Fingers pushing against his prostate within, in places where no natural fingers could push. And Vader still makes no sound but the Emperor has seen his face before, when he did this, the way his eyes roll back, letting himself experience this. The power he holds in his own body reacts to the Emperor's, and he knows how it must feel, like a series of small electric shocks as his cells attempt to fight off the invasion, no matter how much his mind welcomed it. But the Emperor could reach into his mind, could turn what should have been a painful intrusion into shocks of pleasure over his entire body.

He could do the same with the ruined skin, of course, but this way he would be able to claim him in a way that no one else ever could. There was no one else with his power and his control, and he took a great deal of pleasure in reminding his servant of this. Every part, every single cell in his body belongs to him.

His control over his telekinesis is flawless, his mastery complete. He has touched every part of his servant's body from the inside. He has crawled through every inch of his intestines, through his stomach, finding every corner and surface, places that even the medics would not know existed. He knows when he must be gentle and when he can be rough, where the bruises would kill him and where they would slowly heal, the pain a distraction from the other agonies he has endured. He has touched his very heart - could stop its beating at any moment, he thought, as he traced the still-moving muscles, the touch moving into even the smallest vessels as it flows with his blood. 

It would end when the Emperor willed it, of course. Sometimes, while Vader rested after a long mission, it would last for hours, slow and sensual. Other times, as he tested his servant's resolve, it would be quick, sudden, intense - an attempt to make him lose his composure, to make some sound other than his slow regular breathing. He had learned well what would happen if he did react, and so now he would stay silent and still. Depriving him of this would be as strict and as cruel a punishment as any pain he could inflict. As much as the Emperor enjoyed this - enjoyed seeing his servant utterly under his control, inside and out - there were times when such a punishment was necessary. But they were few and far between, now. 

If he permitted it he knows that Vader would be on his knees before him, lost in this, the Emperor's touch everywhere, lovingly stroking the inner surfaces of his lungs, gently kneading his liver... every part of him suddenly and almost unbearably erogenous before his power. Even as he stood, silent and still as any statue, the Emperor could hear his thoughts. _Thank you, Master. Thank you. I will always be loyal to you._

And he would whisper back, _I know, my servant._


End file.
